“Right!” With her raven hair glittering in the firelight, Rhianna triumphantly held the charred peel up as if it were a trophy of war, and whooped like a savage.
“What about ye, Miss Lockhart?” the brunette, who must then be Liza, asked shyly. “What did yer apple peel say? Mine was an N … or an S, I suppose.”
Mena forced a laugh. “I’m much too old for such games, and I’m not of a mind to be married.”
Because she already was, and it had been a nightmare.
“It doesna matter!” Rhianna insisted, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. “It’s not like you have to marry. The apple peel just tells who ye would marry if ye were of a mind.” She repeated her words with a mocking giggle.
“Really, I—”
“Oh, come on, Miss Lockhart!” they all begged, pulling at her sleeves and half dragging her toward the fires.
“Just try it once!”
“It’ll be fun!”
“Please?”
Feeling rather harassed, yet enjoying the barrage of attention from energetic young women, Mena shrugged. What harm could it do?
She glanced at Jani who still studied the apple peel with a fierce expression. Though when he turned back to her, he summoned a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Mena reached out and gave his hand one soft squeeze.
“Andrew!” Rhianna bellowed in a rather unladylike fashion across the fires to her brother, who lingered with Rune by the handsome tables laden with food. “Bob an apple for Miss Lockhart!”
Dark hair already gleaming with moisture, Andrew flashed a rare smile, tossed whatever he’d been snacking on to Rune, and lustily dove into the dark liquid of the nearby barrel face-first. His skinny legs kicked comically in his struggle, and even the solemn Jani laughed at his antics.
After emerging victorious, he slicked his hair back once more, and pilfered a knife from the tables. Simultaneously peeling and walking, Andrew presented her with a brilliant smile and the smooth red flesh of an autumn apple. “Ye have to throw it over yer shoulder and doona look until it starts to burn, or it willna work,” he whispered.
“Got it.” Mena winked and turned her back to the fire and was ready to throw the peel behind her.
“Wait!” Rhianna stopped her. “We have to say the spell over it first.”
All the youngsters nodded in solemn agreement.
“The spell?” Mena echoed.
To the Maiden Goddess of the land
The Crone please bless with divine hand
From the Mother’s fruit I hold
My future soul mate’s name is told.
Each of the girls’ voices blended to the verse beautifully and Mena figured that it should count for her peel. She backed closer to the fire until its searing warmth glowed through the back of her dress. Closing her eyes, she flicked the peel over her shoulder and was rewarded with a hiss.
When her eyes opened, all those who had previously been in front of her had vanished. Turning, she found them bent as close as they dared to read her theoretical fortune.
“Look! It’s a C like mine!” Rhianna pulled her close. As it singed and cooked, the peel did seem to be curling in upon itself.
“That’s not a C, look at that corner there!” Kayleigh pointed to where a flaw in the corner of the peel caused it to jut out, making a specific point. “It seems more like an L to me.”
“Let me look,” Andrew demanded, leaning closer and inspecting it with a scrupulous eye.
Mena’s heart pounded audibly when he turned to her with a look of solemn authentication. “Most definitely an L,” he confirmed.
The girls giggled and began to make lists of L names.
“Lucas or Lionel,” Kayleigh suggested.
“Aye,” Rhianna agreed vehemently, ticking off names on her fingers. “Or Lawrence, Logan, Lucius—”
“Liam,” Andrew offered quietly.
Mena froze as the party almost simultaneously made the connection, and their eyes searched each other’s, trying wordlessly to surmise what their reaction should be. The laird and the governess? Dare someone even suggest it?
After a breathless moment, Andrew’s face melted into the warmest smile she’d ever seen and Mena’s heart broke into gossamer pieces. She swallowed the shards and forced a smile.
“Liam is short for William, dear,” she reminded brightly. “I don’t imagine that counts.”
“Besides, she needs the name of a Brit,” the all-knowing Kayleigh interjected.
They all bent back over the apple peel, though something in Andrew’s eyes told Mena that he wasn’t convinced.
* * *
As people filtered out of the grounds, the sounds of horses and carts and the chatter of excitable children and exhausted parents began to dwindle. Liam turned to look for his family. After only a moment of searching firelit faces, he chuckled a little at the sight of six bent arses huddled in a neat little row around the base of the north bonfire. One particular bottom caught his attention, sheathed in a full green skirt and deliciously plumper than the others displayed. Mena’s shapely legs were longer than the children’s and Jani’s. This pushed her round derriere higher, made it more tantalizingly accessible.
Liam silently ambled up to them until he found himself directly behind the object of his desire. If he bent his knees just a little, and pressed his pelvis forward, his erection would be nestled in the sweet cleft. Shaking his head, he stepped back, reminding himself it wouldn’t do to turn into a raging tornado of primal lust in front of his clan, his children, and the visiting Highland nobles.
Animated giggles erupted from the girls and they were talking softly among themselves, observing some undetermined spot on the fire.
“What’s this, then?” he asked, keeping his voice deceptively light.
Six bodies simultaneously sprang around in surprise, but the line didn’t break. Mena wouldn’t meet his eyes, but kept her horrified gaze locked on his bare chest.
“Father! We were just—” Rhianna was cut off by her brother.
“We were just playing a silly girl’s game.” Andrew shot his sister a quelling look and Liam watched as confusion and then epiphany played across his daughter’s features. Her gaze flew to him and then bounced to Miss Lockhart, who had still yet to move.
“Whit like, Laird Mackenzie?” Rhianna’s friends chorused with matching curtsies.
“Good evening, lassies.” He gently smiled down at them. “The hour is late, I’m sure that yer families are looking for ye now.”
The pleasantly blank looks on their faces told him that they were not privy to the private thoughts of his children and therefore would be of no use to him.
They left with pleasant fare-ye-wells after a quick exchange of hugs and promises with Rhianna.
“Father, we were just tossing apple peels,” Rhianna said brightly, taking his arm and maneuvering around the still-frozen Miss Lockhart. “My husband’s initial is a C. Look!” She pointed to the fire and he saw a smoldering apple peel perilously close to turning to ash.
He squinted into the fire and pretended to study the apple peel with a frown. “Now I know the initial of the man that I’m going to murder.”
Rhianna planted her hands on her hips. “Father!”